


Perfect

by crazyjane



Series: SpookyVIXX October 2020 [1]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Body Horror, M/M, Mirrors, Not Beta Read, Self-Harm, SpookyVIXX October
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyjane/pseuds/crazyjane
Summary: ‘I don’t see anything wrong,’ said Wonshik, honestly mystified.His eyes still glued to the mirror, Taekwoon pointed to his cheek, where an ugly, reddened patch spread out in all directions. ‘How can you not see that?’
Relationships: Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Kim Wonshik | Ravi
Series: SpookyVIXX October 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955065
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first instalment of the SpookyVIXX October challenge.
> 
> I threw the challenge together yesterday ... details can be found [at my Twitter](https://twitter.com/crazyjane13/status/1311282037303648256). Please feel free to join in!
> 
> Prompt: broken mirror  
> Pairing: Wontaek
> 
> (Un-betaed.)

Taekwoon glanced down at his watch, frowning. ‘Will you hurry up? We’re going to be late, and you know how Hakyeon will gripe at us if we ruin his special dinner.’ From above came a muttered curse, followed by the thud of boxes being thrown around. Taekwoon winced. The house was already a mess, everything half-unpacked, and, from the sound of it, Wonshik had just added to the chaos. ‘Whatever you’re looking for, it can wait,’ he called.

‘I just want my good jacket, I know I put it in one of these - found it!’ Wonshik clattered down the stairs, waving said jacket like a victory flag, and Taekwoon couldn’t help but smile at his triumphant expression. ‘Anyway, since when were you so eager to eat anything Hakyeon’s cooked? It’s always awful.’

‘He said he’s been taking lessons.’ At Wonshik’s disbelieving scoff, Taekwoon shrugged. ‘I know, I know … but it means a lot to him.’ As Wonshik shrugged on his jacket, Taekwoon turned to the large mirror hanging in the entrance hall, giving himself one last glance. It was a hideous thing, its badly stained wooden frame festooned with intricately carved leaves, flowers, and what were probably supposed to be grapes. The glass itself was deeply scratched in places, and there were black dots clustered in one corner that Taekwoon was almost sure were some kind of mould. ‘Wish we could get rid of this,’ he muttered, ‘I’m sure it’s a health hazard.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Wonshik, moving past him to the front door. ‘Anyway, we’re stuck with it, you know that. The furniture comes with the house. We were lucky to get it for such a good price.’ He stepped out into the cool evening air. ‘Let’s go, then.’ When Taekwoon didn’t reply, Wonshik turned back to see Taekwoon staring at his reflection, mouth set in an expression of distaste. ‘It’s really not that bad -’

‘My skin is awful,’ said Taekwoon. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Wonshik blinked. ‘What? Your skin is … you look fine. It’s probably just the light. Now come on, we really will be late if you don’t hurry up.’ 

Reluctantly, Taekwoon tore his gaze away and followed Wonshik, but as he turned to shut the door behind them, the mirror caught his eye again. Maybe it had just been the light, but his face had looked so oily. He reached up and rubbed his forehead, grimacing as his fingers dragged across small bumps that signalled a crop of pimples about to bloom. ‘Maybe I’ll ask Hakyeon for some skin care advice,’ he said.

*****

‘I’m home,’ Taekwoon announced. He let the door swing shut behind him, unwinding his scarf from around his neck. Walking into the living room, he shook his head fondly at the sight of his partner sprawled out on the couch, laptop precariously balanced on his stomach.

‘How was your spa day?’ said Wonshik without looking up from the screen.

‘Can we not call it that?’ said Taekwoon, pained. ‘You make me sound like some kind of … princess or something.’ Wonshik only grinned. ‘I was just getting a bit of advice.’

‘For four hours you were getting advice?’

‘Well … Hakyeon might have given me a few treatments,’ Taekwoon admitted.

‘So … spa day.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Now that you’re home,’ said Wonshik, ‘can we order something for dinner? I’m starving, and it’s a little late to cook. The menus are on the fridge,’ he added helpfully.

Taekwoon snorted. ‘And your legs are broken, I suppose. All right, all right, is there anything you …’ His voice died away as he turned and saw himself in the mirror. 

‘You’re the fussy one in this relationship, you choose.’ Taekwoon didn’t answer. ‘Hello?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me my skin was burned?’ asked Taekwoon.

‘What?’ Wonshik put aside the laptop and came over to where Taekwoon was peering at his reflection. 

‘My skin. I must have been allergic to something Hakyeon used.’

‘I don’t see anything wrong,’ said Wonshik, honestly mystified.

His eyes still glued to the mirror, Taekwoon pointed to his cheek, where an ugly, reddened patch spread out in all directions. ‘How can you not see that?’

‘You’re just a bit flushed, it’ll settle down,’ said Wonshik firmly, tugging on Taekwoon’s arm to make him look away. ‘Come and figure out what you want to eat before I order something you’ll hate.’

Taekwoon allowed himself to be led, but as he sorted through delivery menus, one hand came up to cover the mark on his cheek. 

*****

‘My lips are horrible.’

‘Your lips are perfect, Taekwoonie. Here, I’ll prove it.’ Wonshik kissed him, slow and lingering, sighing contentedly when he finally stepped back. 

All Taekwoon could think of was how soft and pillowy Wonshik’s lips had felt moving against the cracked, thin skin of his own.

*****

‘My eyes are so red. And look at the bags under them. Maybe I should see a doctor or something.’

‘Maybe you should just get a good night’s sleep and stop looking at yourself so often,’ said Wonshik crossly.

*****

Taekwoon stared at the greasy hair lying limply around his face, the dry patches on his cheekbones, the way his jaw jutted out too harshly. The slam of the door as Wonshik stomped out barely made him flinch. He didn’t blame his partner for being angry. _I’ve let myself go. I have to try harder_ , he thought, leaning in close to the mirror to see how the imperfections came more and more into focus. 

*****

Taekwoon stared up at the ceiling as Wonshik collapsed beside him and pulled the blankets over them both. ‘I wouldn’t blame you, you know,’ he said softly.

Half-asleep already, Wonshik murmured, an interrogative noise.

‘If you wanted someone else. If you didn’t …’

‘Are you crazy?’ Wonshik pushed up to a half-sitting position. ‘Why would you think I would want that?’

‘I see the way you look at Hakyeon. Of course you do, he’s beautiful, and I …’ Taekwoon turned his face away. ‘I just wanted you to know that I understand.’ He was grabbed, pulled around to face Wonshik’s bewildered, angry face.

‘How can you say that to me? How can you possibly think I would _ever_ …’ Wonshik cradled Taekwoon’s face between his hands. ‘I don’t know where this is coming from, but I love _you_ , it’s always been you, that’s never going to change. Never.’ 

Taekwoon twisted out of Wonshik’s hold, hating how his lover’s fingers slipped and caught on his horrible skin, hating that every lump and dip of his badly-formed bones could be so easily felt. ‘Don’t touch me,’ he grated. ‘You shouldn’t touch me.’

‘Taekwoonie, what the hell is going on?’

*****

‘Stop it, just stop looking at yourself like that. Why can’t you see what I see?’

*****

Taekwoon rubbed. Still there. He pressed harder, scratched with his nails. It didn’t budge. He pulled out a crumpled tissue from his coat pocket and scrubbed at his face. It didn’t make any difference. Striding to the kitchen, he rummaged under the sink until he found what he was looking for, grabbed a cloth and went back to the mirror. A harsh smell caught at his nostrils as he clicked open the bottle’s cap and squeezed some of the liquid onto the cloth. _This will work. It has to work._

‘What are you doing?’

‘It won’t come off,’ said Taekwoon fretfully. He raised the cloth to his face, his eyes immediately starting to sting. 

Horrified, Wonshik grabbed for his hand. ‘Taekwoon, that’s _bleach_!’ Frantic, Taekwoon tried to free himself, but Wonshik only tightened his grip, using his other hand to pull the cloth out of his lover’s fingers. He threw it into the corner. Taekwoon followed it with his eyes; seeing that, Wonshik dragged him away from the mirror and into the living room, pushing him down on the couch. Immediately, Taekwoon tried to stand, but Wonshik held him by the arms. ‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded. ‘What won’t come off?’

Taekwoon tried to hide his face against his shoulder. ‘The mark. I thought it was just dirt, but it’s not, it’s stuck, and I need to get it off, I need to -’

Wonshik gaped at him. ‘Are you talking about your _birthmark_?’

As though he hadn’t heard, Taekwoon kept talking, his words tripping over each other. ‘- don’t know what it is, maybe I can make it go away before it gets too big, I have to try everything, maybe a surgeon …’

Very carefully, Wonshik said, ‘Love … it’s always been there. You know that.’

Taekwoon looked up at him in shock. ‘ _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ’ he gasped, burying his face in his hands.

‘Wh - what?’ Wonshik stammered. 

‘How can you stand to _look_ at me?’

‘Taekwoonie …’

Taekwoon wrenched himself out of Wonshik’s grasp and fled.

*****

_Ugly._

_Ugly._

_Disgusting, awful …_

_lines spots marks too pale too dark too oily too dry_

_eyes too small nose too large cheekbones stick out too much not enough_

_so much wrong with me_

_fix it fix it all make it go away_

_have to be perfect_

_never be perfect_

_have to try_

*****

‘... don’t know what to do …’

Standing at the mirror, Taekwoon heard Wonshik’s low voice, almost whispering into the phone.

‘... he won’t stop … all he says is that he’s … ugly …’

Taekwoon’s reflection nodded back at him. Finally, Wonshik was seeing the truth. Vision blurring, Taekwoon watched his tiny, hooded eyes, one drooping, one too wide, spill over with tears that left a blotchy trail down the ravaged skin of his cheeks. 

‘I _know_ … of course not, Hakyeon, how could you think that?’

It was good that Wonshik was talking to Hakyeon. He deserved Hakyeon. Deserved to be with someone beautiful, someone with flawless skin and perfect bones. Taekwoon raised one hand, trying not to look at the dry flakes and the blemishes. One too-long finger stroked down his nose, his mean little lips stretching in a grimace that pulled at the cracked sores in the corner of his mouth as he felt the bumps.

‘ … won’t talk to me, won’t … let me touch him …’

Wonshik shouldn’t touch him. No one should.

‘... hasn’t gone to work … just looks at himself in that _fucking_ mirror all day … no, I can’t, it’s part of the house …’

Surgery might work. If the bones were broken just right …

‘ … I guess … yeah, that might work … yeah, behind the wardrobe in the spare room …’

Taekwoon watched his hand close into a fist.

‘... yeah, definitely … I mean, I’ll have to find someone … you do? … can you give me their …’

It hurts. Good. That means it’s working. Keep going.

‘... okay, I’ve - Taek? Did you say something - oh my god!’

It’s looking better already.

‘Taekwoon, stop! _Stop_!’

Puzzled, Taekwoon shifted his eyes to look at Wonshik’s perfect reflection. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said through a mouthful of blood.

‘What’s _wrong_?’ Wonshik almost shrieked, hanging on to Taekwoon’s arm. Stopping him. ‘You … you’re hurting yourself, you’re …’

‘I’m making myself better,’ Taekwoon said calmly. He raised his other hand and hooked his fingers into claws. ‘For you.’ He dug his nails into the clammy skin and dragged them down to peel it off. That hand, too, was pulled away. ‘Let me go,’ he said, his voice clogged. ‘I need to finish.’

‘No.’ Wonshik’s image was shaking its head. ‘No, no, please, _please_ , love, don’t do this.’

‘But I will be perfect for you.’

‘ _No_!’ yelled Wonshik. 

Taekwoon’s shoulders slumped. ‘You’re right.’ He looked at his reflection again. ‘There’s too much wrong. It isn’t going to work.’

‘That’s not what I meant …’

Taekwoon smiled. It was pathetic, lop-sided and twisted and it would never be anything else, but it was all he had. ‘It’s all right. I understand. You should go to Hakyeon, he will be lovely for you …’

At that, Wonshik wrenched him around, breaking his gaze. ‘Stop it! Stop this! I don’t want Hakyeon, I don’t want anyone but _you_!’

‘But why?’

‘Because … because you’re you! Because ... god, Taekwoon, don’t you know you _are_ perfect to me? You’ve always been perfect.’ Wonshik cupped Taekwoon’s face in shaking hands, running his thumbs over his cheekbones, staring into his eyes. ‘You’re beautiful, you’re _everything_ to me, and … and you chose _me_ , you could have anyone but you chose me.’ Crying now, Wonshik kissed him, hard, desperate, pulling back with blood smeared across his mouth. ‘I love you _so much_ …’

‘You …’ Taekwoon shook his head. ‘You can’t …’ So much fog in his mind. ‘How can you …’ His face was hurting, aching, something … bleeding? ‘What am I …what did I ...’

Wonshik’s eyes lit up. ‘That’s it, that’s it, come back to me …’

‘I …’ Taekwoon staggered, and Wonshik grabbed for his shoulders. His head lolled; he forced himself to stand up straight … and saw it. The truth.

‘Taekwoon, no … don’t look …’

Ugly. Disgusting. Awful. 

‘Don’t, don’t, it’s lying to you!’

Wonshik was wrong. 

‘Please, just look at me, _please_ …’

It had to go. It all had to go. He had to make himself a blank canvas, start again. He raked his nails across his face, dug into the bleeding furrows, started to pull.

His image splintered into a thousand pieces, falling, crashing, leaving him staring at … an empty frame.

*****

‘Are you sure he’ll be all right?’

‘The doctor said it wouldn’t scar. His nose is broken, but … not badly. It won’t even need to be reset.’

Through the door, Taekwoon could hear them talking. It was hard to make out, hard to concentrate with the painkillers running through his system.

‘Wonshik, what happened?’

‘It was the mirror … no, I know what you’re going to say, but you weren’t here, Hakyeon. You didn’t see.’

The mirror? What about the mirror? Something important ...

‘Where is it?’

‘Gone. Every last fucking bit of it. I even burned the frame, I don’t care if we get fined for destroying the furniture.’

Wonshik sounds angry. 

‘You should rest.’

‘I need to stay with him …’

‘He’s sleeping. Come downstairs, I’ll make you one of my teas. You can check on him later.’

Moving away, getting fainter. Good.

‘Your teas taste like shit …’

‘That’s how you know they’re helping …’

Footsteps fading. 

Alone.

Good.

Taekwoon pushed back the covers and stood, wobbling on his feet for a moment. When he was sure he wouldn’t fall, he went to the chair where his clothes had been left in a pile. He slipped his hand carefully into his pocket. His fingers closed on something, and he smiled as he drew it out.

It was so small, too small to show everything. It showed enough. It showed him what he had to do.

Blank canvas. Start again. Be perfect.

Taekwoon raised the shard of mirror to his face, and began to cut.


End file.
